


Falconers and Fur

by boomsherlocka



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jack adopts a cat, Just Add Kittens, M/M, just cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomsherlocka/pseuds/boomsherlocka
Summary: Jack bypassed the kennels, heading instead toward a door marked “The Cat Room”. He stalled at the door, watching a pair of black kittens wrestle each other, before stepping inside.





	Falconers and Fur

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the existence of the Penguins and Paws charity calendar, and the fact that Jake Guentzel was the only one who took a picture with a cat. God bless that boy.

Most of the guys headed straight to the kennels when they arrived at the Providence Humane Society. Jack hung back, helping the photographer, Ben, lug in his bags of equipment.

They were visiting the shelter to shoot their annual Falconers and Fur charity calendar, and Jack was all too aware of the war going on in the kennel.

The guys had been arguing over the type of dog they wanted their picture with for days. Tater wanted a mastiff and Snowy wanted a greyhound. Some of the other guys had already had their pictures taken with their own pets. Jack had seen the picture of Marty’s fat little pug sitting in the Stanley Cup.

Jack bypassed the kennels, heading instead toward a door marked “The Cat Room”. He stalled at the door, watching a pair of black kittens wrestle each other, before stepping inside.

Small cages lined the walls, but all of the doors were open. Most of the cats were out of their cages, climbing or playing or sunning themselves in the windows that lined the back of the room.

Soon enough Jack had a couple of the younger cats winding their way around his ankles, meowing dramatically. He chuckled to himself before sinking to the ground, scratching down the back of a fat ginger cat who had infiltrated the herd of kittens.

The cats didn’t hesitate to use him as a jungle gym. A small tuxedo cat leapt up onto his shoulder, bumping his forehead against Jack’s with a throaty purr.

By the time the photographer made it around to him Jack had a cat sleeping on each of his thighs and one nestled between his legs. The cat perched on his shoulder had begun grooming Jack’s hair, and Jack couldn’t help his laugh.

“Look at you, cat whisperer,” Ben chirped as he snapped a handful of shots.

Jack shrugged, careful not to disturb the cat on his shoulder.

Feeding time came and Jack could finally stand back up. Jack helped the shelter volunteer open up cans of food and distribute them from cage to cage.

He came to one of the cages furthest from the windows, expecting to see it empty. Inside, however, was a fluffy grey cat with bright green eyes who was watching him warily as he scooped food into its bowl. “Is this cat okay?” Jack asked the volunteer, keeping his voice low so as not to spook the animal.

“That’s Sasha,” the volunteer sighed, scratching behind the ears of a vocal bobtailed calico. “She’s a sweet old girl. Her owner passed away a few months ago and her children surrendered Sasha. We think she’s around fourteen years old. She’s a great kitty, but the kittens can be a bit much for her. She really opens up one on one.”

Jack reached out towards Sasha, holding his hand in front of her face to let her sniff his fingers before petting her gently. He could feel tension in her small body but her eyes drifted closed. Soon, she began to purr.

Jack left with a cardboard carrier tucked under his arm.

 

“You have to change her name,” Tater sighed. “Don’t want Ovechkin thinking you name cute kitty after him.”

Jack shook his head, wiggling his fingers over the edge of his sofa. Sasha flicked her tail and yawned before padding off toward the kitchen, where Jack kept her food bowl. “She’s fourteen, Tater, I’m not changing her name now,” Jack replied. “What if someone just came along and wanted to change your name?”

Tater shrugged. “I am not caring. You the one who Ovie’s going to chirp, not me.”

Jack smiled as Sasha slunk back into the room, curling up in her plush bed by the window. “I think I can handle it,” Jack said.

 

 

“You did what?”

Jack licked his lips, glancing down at his lap, where Sasha was curled into a ball. “I adopted a cat,” he repeated, smoothing a hand over Sasha’s soft fur. “Her name is Sasha.”

Bitty’s eyes widened. “I didn’t…I didn’t know you wanted a cat.”

“I didn’t,” Jack admitted. “But her owner had passed away and she was dumped at the shelter. She’s an old lady, she deserved a home.”

Bitty pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes soft. “Well come on, let me see her,” Bitty prompted. “Where is she?”

“She’s in my lap,” Jack said, shifting his laptop a bit. “She’s definitely a lap cat. Any time I sit down she’s there.”

“Oh my gosh,” Bitty gasped. “She’s probably used to sitting in the lap of a little old lady who watched daytime television while she knits. How sad.”

“See? I couldn’t leave her there,” Jack said softly, scratching behind Sasha’s ear. “She looked pretty overwhelmed, and I know what that feels like.”

Bitty made a soft sound. “Oh honey, you’re so sweet.”

Jack shrugged. “She deserves someone taking care of her. I think you’ll like her.”

Bitty’s smile widened. “I’m sure we’ll get along. We both love you.”

Jack listened to the gentle hum of Sasha’s purr and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m pretty lucky.”

 

 

_What do you do for Kit when you’re out of town? Do you board her? JZ_

_It’s Jack, by the way. JZ_

**_I know who it is. KP_ **

**_Why do you want to know? KP_ **

_I adopted a cat. She’s old, and I think boarding her will stress her out. JZ_

**_I don’t board Kit. I hire a housesitter who stays with her when I’m gone for a while. KP_ **

**_You are such a glutton for punishment, Zimms. Adopting a cat who is going to croak soon. KP_ **

_She’s healthy. JZ_

_Cats can live well into their twenties, I looked it up. JZ_

**_(Delay) So are you going to send me pictures or what? KP_ **

_Just a sec. JZ_

_[Photograph Attached] JZ_

**_Cute cat. KP_ **

**_Not as cute as mine. KP_ **

_Agree to disagree. JZ_

_Thanks, Kent. JZ_

**_Of course. KP_ **

****

****

The calendars were ready in time for Christmas, and Jack bought one for every person on his list. January was a picture of Tater cradling a comically tiny puppy in the palm of his hand, his smile wide.

Jack was April. The smile on his face was genuine.

Bitty was curled in against Jack’s side, flipping through the calendar with a smile on his face. “This is just too cute,” he said with a chuckle. “Why were you the only one who went for the cats?”

Jack shrugged. “Not sure. I guess most of the guys are dog people.”

Bitty laid the calendar aside. “And you aren’t?”

Jack wrapped his arm around Bitty, tugging him closer. “I never had a pet. I didn’t really think I was an animal person at all.”

Bitty nodded. “Me either. But Sasha’s a good cat. She stays off the counters and doesn’t scratch up the furniture.”

Jack smiled down at Sasha, who was stretched out on her back in the middle of the floor. When she heard Bitty say her name she chirped but otherwise didn’t move.

“I think you make her a very happy cat, Jack,” Bitty said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jack’s cheek. “And she seems to tolerate me alright, even though cats tend to not like me very much.”

“I can’t imagine anything not liking you very much,” Jack said as he tugged Bitty into his lap. Bitty surged forward to kiss him, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck.

Things were beginning to get a little heated when Jack felt a brush against his calf, followed by a soft mew. He let his head fall back. “It’s dinner time,” he sighed.

Bitty nodded but made no move. He looked down at Sasha, who just blinked her bright green eyes and meowed again. Bitty laughed as he slid out of Jack’s lap. “Feed the cat and come to bed,” Bitty said as he stood.

Jack only hesitated a moment, Sasha’s tail curling around his leg. 

 

 

“How many pictures are you going to take?” Jack asked as he looked up from his laptop.

Shitty snapped another. “We can start a new calendar,” he said, turning his phone a bit. “Animals Perched on the Glorious Zimmermann Ass. It would sell out in seconds.”

Jack sighed. As soon as he had laid down to look up a restaurant for him and Shitty to go to for dinner, Sasha had climbed onto his back, finally settling on the high point of his butt. When Shitty had looked up from his phone he had died laughing, snapping picture after picture, sending the best one to the group chat.

The chat exploded.

“We can walk to the restaurant from here no problem,” Jack said, snapping his laptop closed. “It’s just a few blocks.”

“Does Sasha often perch on your ass, Jack?” Shitty asked as he walked over to scratch behind her ears.

“It’s one of her spots, yeah,” Jack admitted, pushing himself up. Sasha meowed but jumped to the floor, stretching languidly.

“I didn’t think I could like her any more, but knowing she also appreciates the booty is just perfect,” Shitty said, scooping her up into his arms. She meowed but otherwise went limp. “This is the perfect cat for you, Jack.

Jack nodded. “I think so too,” he said before snapping a picture of Shitty with Sasha in his arms.

He sent it to the group chat.  

 

 

Sasha had a particular fondness for Jack’s equipment bag. If it was open she would curl up inside. He got in the habit of checking his bag every day before heading off to practice. Seeing his bag wriggling in the passenger seat once was enough for him to learn that particular lesson.

If it was closed, she would perch on top of it, eyes half-closed as she purred loudly. He had no idea why she was so interested in his smelly equipment, but it was her favorite, followed closely by the dirty clothes hamper.

When Jack had to leave for roadies, he got in the habit of leaving one of his running shirts out for her to sleep on. It always took a while to get all of the cat hair out, but if it helped her remain comfortable it was worth it.

 

 

The Falconers and Fur calendar the following year sold out in pre-order. Jack’s day to shoot was a sunny Saturday.

They brought the Cup, which had his name engraved on it twice now, to his house.

They set it up in his backyard and he walked over to it, cradling a limp Sasha in his arms.

“Will she sit in the bowl?” Ben asked, snapping a few test shots to check the lighting.

Jack carefully placed her in the Cup. Sasha watched him for a moment before she settled in. Jack heard the repetitive snap of pictures being taken in quick succession.

The picture they settled on was one of Jack and Sasha looking at each other, a fond smile on Jack’s face. The Cup was glistening in the sunlight. The picture soon became one of the most popular ones that Jack was asked to sign. His mother had it blown up and hung it in their home in Montreal.

Jack thought it was a good picture of them both.

 

 

Ovechkin did chirp him pretty mercilessly about having a cat named Sasha. Jack just tuned him out and played hockey.

And won.


End file.
